Then they’re dead.
‘Inesh, Nova!’
Inesh sticks her head out of the window. ‘Yes?’
‘I need you both on the bench beside Dreska. Hurry. We don’t have long.’
Dreska gasps, glancing over her shoulder at Brielle, eyes wild as Inesh climbs through the window, swings round the side of the coach and sinks down beside her. Nova shelters between them, hiding from the now torrential rain. ‘You’re going to try to cross? We’ll never make it!’
‘Not without some encouragement,’ Brielle agrees softly. She shoves back a hank of hair plastered to her face by the rain and reaches inside her jacket for a tiny, stoppered bottle. The last of the wyvern blood she drained and kept from the creatures that killed her mother. ‘Don’t fail me now,’ she says, then with a final glance at the swollen river she downs it.
The blood hits her heart like a fist, magic blazing through every inch of her.
She feels more alive than ever before, like a roaring inferno, an exploding star. She stays crouched, whispering witch words to the horses, lending them more strength, speed, giving them the magic pumpingthrough her. And, as the spells weave over them, taking hold, they crash forward, racing for the bank and the river beyond.
There’s a cry behind her, the howl of the whole grindlewolf pack, but she doesn’t turn. Doesn’t blink. Not as she plants her palms on the roof of the coach and roars a single word.
Volatus.
The wheels judder, the horses gallop for the river and, as they reach the bank …
They fly.
Soaring up and over, they leap in an arc, vaulting the river, the rushing roar of it drowning out all else. Brielle grits her teeth, the spell alive, cast free as her heart flies to her throat, as the water rises to meet them.
And the horses touch down on the opposite bank, the wheels of the coach smacking into the ground a moment later. Brielle is pitched from the coach, falling into the mud of the bank and she rolls quickly, coming up with a blade in her fist. The horses calm, slowing, then finally stop, Dreska and Inesh still clinging on with blood-drained faces. Across the river, the hunters screech to a halt. The grindlewolves paw at the bank, the coach at a standstill.
Brielle smiles, staring at them as they glare back furiously. And she catches a flash of ice-blue, piercing eyes.
Do you recognise them?Nova says, slinking round the coach to sit beside her, licking her paws.
Brielle replaces the blade in her sash, straightening to stand. ‘They are no friends of ours – that’s all I know. We must continue on our way, as swiftly as we can to Ennor. Whoever sent them does not want me to return.’
the horn blasts through thearena and I sag in relief. The first Trial is over. We survived.
Skylan is declared victorious, and we shuffle round the edge of the rock face, avoiding getting too close to the edge as we’re escorted back to the court by the guards. I crane my neck, searching the faces of the contenders surrounding us, seeing who survived. A thin wail pierces the close air of the tunnel, and I have my answer. Sapira, from the Valstran region of Stanvard, stumbles at the back, face in her hands. I glance around, pulse quickening, and count two from the Spines, two from Leicena, two from Skylan, but the Middenwilds … I swallow. There is only Pascha. Tall and staring straight ahead, a gash dripping blood down his bicep as he takes the long walk through the tunnel alone.
‘Two dead,’ I murmur to Kell disbelievingly. All those pale orb eyes in the water, the morgawr circling, the weapons scattered like jewels over the rocks … For the first time, it truly sinks in. I’m not just separated frommy home, and it isn’t only Agnes under threat. This is not a game. I cannot simply strike a deal with a stranger who will make a plan to save me, however enigmatic they appear.
I could truly die.
‘They can still carry on without their partners, if they wish to,’ Kell says quietly as a guard jabs him in the back, telling him he’s dragging his feet. ‘Although from the looks of them both …’
‘Would you?’ I ask, looking at him.
He shrugs. ‘I didn’t even do anything in this one. But it’s not as if I can leave like they can, is it?’
‘Depends why they’re both here, I guess,’ I say as we exit the tunnel, stepping out into stark sunlight. I cringe, holding my hand up to shield my eyes from the glare, and realise I’m shivering. The cold and wet is clinging to my skin, rattling my bones. But it occurs to me that Kell is right. ‘I have a thought.’
Kell glances at me, raising his eyebrows. ‘Does it involve more deals?’
‘More like making friends,’ I say, subtly indicating the other contenders as we’re shuffled into carriages to carry us through the streets of Highborn. I’m done with trusting others to get me out of a situation, it’s true, but I don’t see this as putting my trust in someone else. If Kell and I can find allies, we’ll increase our chances of survivalandescape. ‘We need to know what makes them tick. What the stakes are for them. Why they’re here.’ We’re seated with our guards, so I don’t say anymore, but I catch Kell’s eye, and see the wheels whirring in his mind, just as they are in mine.
The following morning, we’re all led to a brunch in the gardens. Members of every court across the continent are in attendance, and again we contenders wear our country or territory’s colours. Kell and I split up. He takes the contender from the Middenwilds, Pascha, who is standing at the edge of the garden, arms crossed, glowering at everyone. I make for the contenders from the Spines, Fey and Soturi, who arrived by drakeback. As I approach, they both nod. It’s the warmest I’ve seen them greet anyone. Usually, they bare their teeth and hiss.
‘We owe you our lives, Mira,’ Fey says, threading her arms across her chest. Her white-blonde hair is tied back in a series of intricate knots, dark kohl shaping her eyes to narrowed points at the edges. ‘Name your cost.’
I wave my hand, stopping a few feet away. ‘You owe me nothing. It was a deal and the Trial is over. I have no interest in watching anyone become a meal.’
